Sighing at his own dark mood, he nodded vacantly to two soldiers who were standing near his tent. Ruadh smiled at him, but Lorcan, one of his father's men, simply gave him a stiff nod in return. Ansel couldn't find it in him to even care. He'd been pushing for too long, and all he wanted to do was sleep. At least, when he slept, there was no war. At least in sleep he could allow himself to feel.
It was warm enough in his insulated tent which even had a small fireplace merrily blazing in the corner, and Ansel took a moment to ensure the entrance flap was secured before sighing and kicking off his boots. The royal war tent was plush and comfortable, and despite Ansel's insistence that he didn't need such comforts, he was grateful tonight that he had an actual warm bed to sink into rather than a stiff cot. He kicked off his wet shoes and peeled off the woolen socks, enjoying the feel of the woven carpet that acted as the floor under his bare feet.
He quickly discarded his clothing, getting rid of the damp shirt and trousers that were sticking to his skin, and shook his head to rid his hair of some of the excess snow. He stood in only his leine, tiredness weighing on his shoulders. Though his tent was heated, the cold still felt harsh against Ansel's slightly-damp nude body, and he moved toward the fireplace to warm up and reach for his sleepwear.
A shadow flickered in the corner of his eye, and Ansel tensed. He turned toward the dark corner of the tent where someone was clearly hiding and reached for his sword. Whoever it was may think him weak and exposed here only in his underwear, but they would soon learn how deadly he could be.
"Ye may as well come out," he said steadily. "Let's make this quick."
A figure stepped out of the shadows, and the breath was knocked entirely from Ansel's lungs at the sight.
A woman stood before him, her shining golden hair longer than the short dark maid's style he remembered. But he would never forget those eyes, those lips, or that expression of pure determination. He saw it every night in his sleep.
"Neala," he said, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. "Am I asleep already? Me dreams arenae often so cold."
Her perfect lips twitched up into a smile. "Neither, I imagine, find ye unarmed and surprised in yer underwear." She took a step forward, then stopped. "It's good tae see ye."
It wasn't a dream. Ansel rubbed his eyes, but she was still there when he looked again. Silence trickled between them like the sand in an hourglass, and Neala's posture shifted. She chewed at her bottom lip, seeming suddenly uncertain. Ansel's eyes flickered to her mouth as she did, and his body stirred, a sudden powerful yearning threatening to break through his carefully crafted wall of stone.
"What are ye doin' here?" he asked at last in a low growl. "Howare ye here? How on Earth did ye get tae the royal war tent in the center of Ashkirk power without gettin' yerself killed?"
Her eyes flashed in defiance, and his heart stammered in response. "I'm a White Sparrow," she reminded him. "I can go anywhere I please without bein' noticed. Yer soldiers are nae threat tae me."
"They will be if they catch ye," Ansel snapped, heat surging like a wave in his chest. "Are ye a fool? Why would ye come here? Did I give ye yer freedom for nothin'?"
She remained calm in the face of his anger. "I had tae see ye. I've wanted nothin' more than tae see ye from the moment I left ye behind. I couldnae just let ye die."
Ansel scoffed. This whole situation was absurd. Here he was in nothing but his undergarments talking to a woman who was supposed to be dead who was now helping lead a war to kill him and everything he'd ever known. It almost made him wantto laugh. "What did ye think was gonnae happen when ye went back tae McNair Castle? Did ye think yer brother would spare me because I let ye go? Did ye think me father would take pity?"
She kept her gaze steady. "I asked ye tae come with me."
"And I refused!" he shouted, barely aware he was raising his voice. "Was that nae enough for ye? I dinnae ken what ye think ye saw in me, but Iwarnedye. Ye kennothin'about me, and now ye've risked yer life, and for what?"
"For ye. Just as ye risked yers for me," Neala replied quietly. "Is it true that yer father beat ye for losin' Nessa? Ye must ken we were the ones who took her. And yet ye still kept me secret?"
Ansel picked up his sword and held it loosely in his hand. "Ye are me enemy. Ye havenaeright tae be here. Leave. Now."
Neala simply shook her head.
He took a threatening step forward, his hand gripped tight around the pommel of his blade. "I should cut ye down where ye stand. I gave ye yer chance. I gave yeeverychance. Ye were a spy, a traitor, the blood of me enemy, and I was fool enough tae let ye go. Ye returned the favor when ye saved me life. Now we owe each other nothin'. I'm givin' ye one more chance tae leave."
Her eyes flicked to his sword, but she did not seem concerned. Instead, they filled with a deep sadness. "Ye did more than that for me," she told him, not moving at all. "Ye think I dinnae ken what ye did for me friends? For me. And I ken what ye lost as a result."
Pain stabbed at Ansel's heart so powerfully that he physically stumbled. Baldric's grinning face swam through his mind, that night when he'd promised Ansel nothing would go wrong. He'd waited all night for the signal. Maybe, if he'd just been able to stay awake…
He closed his eyes and shook his head, desperate to rid them of the image. He could not let his emotions bleed in, especially not now.
"I'm sorry that I never kent Baldric," Neala said quietly. "He sounds like he was a wonderful man."
"He was. Much better than I will ever be," Ansel said roughly. "I'm nae him. I never will be. I watched him die, right before me eyes. His last words to me father were that yer brother lives and that the war is lost. And then I watched as me own father cut my cousin's head from his shoulders."
She shivered, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said again. She hesitated, then said, "But why… why did ye nae leave? After that, surely…"
"Ye dinnae get it, do ye? I already told ye. I'mnaeBaldric. I'm nothin' but me father's son. That's all I was ever born tae be. I killed me mother by bein' born, and me only purpose since has been tae serve him." He shivered again, though it had nothing to with the cold. "What ye ken of me, what ye think of me, isnothin'compared tae the darkness I've seen. The crimes I've committed. I am nae what ye want me tae be."
Neala shook her head. "Nessa told me ye tried tae spare people. She told me?—"
Ansel's hand tightened on his sword. "Itold yetae leave!" he snarled, furious at the way his heart was thrumming in his chest. He had fought so hard to stop feeling, and it was crumbling around him just by her presence. "Get out! Go!"
